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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24583927">By Any (Other) Name</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tinevisce/pseuds/Tinevisce'>Tinevisce</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan (2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Author got carried away, M/M, ancient india AU, author regrets a lot of things but not this, out of control author means out of character characters, questionable repurposing of cultural practices</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:14:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,342</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24583927</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tinevisce/pseuds/Tinevisce</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Kneeling in front of the yantra, fenced in by the lit torches, was the most beautiful man Kartik had ever seen. Gold-flecked dark eyes glared balefully at all of them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kartik Singh/Aman Tripathi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alpenglow3241/gifts">Alpenglow3241</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monamoni/gifts">Monamoni</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Shouldnt_Be_Here/gifts">I_Shouldnt_Be_Here</a>.</li>


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24552841">The Yaksha of the Guras Grove</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alpenglow3241/pseuds/Alpenglow3241">Alpenglow3241</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is absolutely a fanfiction of the excellent fanfiction "The Yaksha of the Guras Grove". I read it and was completely enchanted by the premise and wanted to write it so bad that I basically abandoned (temporarily!) my other fic and started writing this one. It's incredibly gratuitous in that I haven't even ATTEMPTED to try and keep the characters, you know, IN-CHARACTER. With that said,  I mean, Kartik and Aman in-canon are urban Indians from the 21st Century; surely they'd behave completely differently if you totally changed that backdrop?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They called it the Yaksha of the <em>Guras</em> Grove; the grove itself being a little clearing on the edge of the forest bordering the kingdom. It was a liminal place, one of dappled sunlight and rippling shadows; endless shades of green interspersed with the bone-white <em>guras</em> flowers.</p><p>As far as anyone knew, the grove and its guardian had always been there- perhaps predating even the tiny settlement which preceded the city (and the kingdom which came after).<br/>The oldest of their archives spoke about seven patriarchs leading a delegation to the grove to seek the Yaksha’s goodwill. Then, as now, the stark white flowers were highly prized for the viscous, clear oil they yielded when distilled. Only a drop was all it took to ease childbirth, soothe fevers and cool inflammations. More than a drop and the oil became a poison rivalling Vasuki’s venom.</p><p>The archives didn’t go on to record what form the Yaksha took during that encounter, or really what the actual conversation was like. All they said was that the spirit had allowed access to the <em>guras</em> flowers for the three spring months- and no more.</p><p>The <em>or else</em> apparently did not need to be said out loud; or maybe it had been but the results too ill to be put down in words. After all, of the seven families that sent representatives out to the grove- only five found mention in the annals that were written after.</p><hr/><p>Times, as they are wont to, change.</p><p>What was a settlement became a mighty kingdom; and what used to be a septemvirate coalesced into one mighty Kingship. Dhrupad son of Vansharaj currently sat on the throne. A relatively older man who only ascended after the sudden death of his otherwise hale father, Dhrupad was powerfully charismatic. His eulogy for the late King at his coronation was said to have moved the entire Court to tears.</p><p>The King is dead, long live the King.</p><p>It was his dream, Dhrupad said, that their <em>Adhirajya</em> would be like Indraprastha of old. A place where no man, woman or child wanted for anything; where the streets would be paved with gold and littered with gems. With a council manned by new faces and a valiant Army, Dhrupad went about raising the glory of their kingdom to new heights.</p><p>Ultimately, though, it went back to the <em>guras</em>. Neighbouring kingdoms and States valued the oil dearly for their almost mystical medicinal properties; and it was only Dhrupad’s herbalists who knew and jealously guarded the secret to extracting the oil from the white flowers.</p><p>There were whispers of the oil having other uses too- but those seem to be quickly silenced.</p><p>No matter how much the royal herbalists perfected the technique to extract every last drop of the oil from each flower though, there were only so many flowers that could be harvested during the three months of Spring each year. Herbal lore said that the <em>guras</em> was a perennial flower: had it not been for the Yaksha in the Grove, they could have a supply through the whole year.</p><hr/><p>To Kartik and Ravi, two young men from a small hamlet a day’s ride away, living in the capital city had been what they had always dreamed of as little boys. Ravi’s father used to be a charioteer in the old King’s service before settling down with his wife in the hamlet- and he always broke out into a smile at his son’s babbled dreams about living in an enormous mansion near the central quarter next to the Great Bath in the city. The smile was somewhere between wistful and apprehensive.</p><p>Kartik’s father did not smile. The Blacksmith always had a darkness in him, darker than the soot he was perpetually covered in- a darkness that his wife had somehow (barely) been able to keep in check.<br/>When she died in childbirth- well, many of the villagers whispered to themselves that it would perhaps have been better for the child to have accompanied his mother to the world beyond.</p><p>Growing up, Kartik was an inexplicable combination of almost fey dreaminess and a canny practicality. The boy would often venture out to the wild, lonely spaces in the bordering forests- emerging hours later with leaves threaded through his hair and bleeding from half a dozen cuts.</p><p>He was also not a stranger to injury- when his father’s temper erupted in violence, he seemed to instinctively know the precise way to fold himself so his vital organs would be protected from any serious injury- he also knew that running away or screaming would make it worse. Still and silent, he remained therefore, as the blows kept raining down- as though his father meant to stamp not only his body but his memory too out of existence.</p><p>Ravi and his parents learned to listen for the loud crashes from the Blacksmith’s hut at night. The sickening thuds of something repeatedly hitting a body made more eerie by the fact that no human sound of pain accompanied them. Only the Blacksmith’s grunts of exertion.</p><p>When the night collapsed back into the hush of crickets and croaking frogs, they learned to listen for the inconspicuous scratch on their front door, impossible to hear unless you were specifically listening for it.</p><p>Opening the front door would reveal a panting Kartik leaning on one of the pillars. His eyes would be clouded over with pain, although he would be smiling apologetically.</p><p>
  <em>Can I sleep here tonight?</em>
</p><hr/><p>“They’re going to <em>what</em>?”</p><p>The cramped room which passed for their accommodation amplified Kartik’s voice and Ravi winced at the volume. As it was, his ears were still ringing with the sound of clashing iron from a long day of weapons training.</p><p>As it turned out, the mansions next to the Great Bath were all occupied by the Nobility who had no intention of vacating them for an erstwhile charioteer’s son and his waif of a singer-friend. A tiny room one wing away from the Servant’s quarters was all they were considered fit to have.</p><p>Still, the city bustled and teemed with a life they had never dreamed of back in their insular hamlet; people spoke in a variety of dialects and accents that were impossible to place- and more importantly, nobody knew the person walking next to them down to their fourteenth ancestral generation.</p><p>Ravi’s induction into the Palace Guards meant they were regarded with general goodwill by their neighbours while Kartik’s voice (sweeter than Indra’s <em>Soma</em>, a lot of the Palace women had apparently been heard saying) meant that he always had enough coin to buy the two of them hearty meals washed down with strong beer.</p><p>“Yes, the King has been looking for a way to get past the <em>Yaksha</em> in the grove for  years now. It seems Kaali finally found a way”</p><p>“How? The <em>yakshagan </em>look to Shiva as their Patron, surely the Tantric incantations won’t bind them- they all invoke His Name!” <sub>1</sub></p><p>Ravi tried to shrug as he took a swig of his beer, resulting in some of the liquid sloshing over his chest. “Kaali has travelled to the ends of the world and has mastered all sorts of magics- maybe he doesn’t need to invoke Shiva at all for his spells”</p><p>By the flickering light of the earthen lamps that illuminated their room, Kartik’s expressive face acquired new shadows as it sank into deep thought.</p><p>Kaali was the Royal Mage appointed by the new King shortly after his coronation- the man was hardly the unkept, crazed mendicant most people expected <em>tantriks</em> to be. Oh no, Kaali was a tall, well-built man who preferred the expensive indigo-dyed fabrics and had long, flowing hair which was always meticulously brushed out to absolute perfection.<br/>When he spoke, his voice was a rich baritone and his speech exceedingly polite.</p><p>Kartik couldn’t stand the man.</p><p>As far as he knew, all the incantations in the world ultimately circled back to Shiva or Shakti, the eternal masculine and feminine principles. The thought that there was a way to somehow cheat your out of that roiled unpleasantly in his gut. If it were at all possible though, Kartik was certain Kaali would be the one who actually went through with it.</p><p>“Do you know when they’re going to do it?”</p><hr/><p>In the end, it actually wasn’t that difficult to somehow tag along with the entourage that set out from the Palace on that particular Moonless night. It seemed most of the guards weren’t too keen on making their way at night to a spot where a fierce nature spirit dwelt in order to do things most certainly against its express wishes.</p><p>Ravi wasn’t either, but Kartik could be an absolutely terrible bully when it came down to it and absolutely refused to relent until Ravi volunteered himself for the expedition and then procured a spare helmet and spear for his “very brave friend who would dearly love to help protect the King”.</p><p>Of course, the King was protected by his very own elite bodyguards and did not actually need lowly Palace door-wardens for his personal protection. Which would mean the twenty-odd guards that included Ravi and Kartik who headed the King’s entourage were meant to be cannon fodder than actual soldiers.</p><p>Ravi pointed this out to Kartik in a terse whisper only to be summarily shushed for his trouble. The farther they left the buildings of the city behind them, the colder the night air got. Kartik suddenly wished he had his <em>uttariya</em> on except that it would be a deep insult to cover his torso in the King’s presence.</p><p>Kaali and his three personal servants were a little way ahead of them. The servants each had a lit torch with them, although from what little Kartik could see it looked as though Kaali too was carrying something in his hands.</p><p>They walked on in silence towards the <em>Guras </em>Grove, the flames illuminating the path forward. Kartik knew they were close to grove even before the light of the torches reached it because he could see the white flowers. They seemed to glow with a soft, white light like remembered starlight in the gathered darkness.</p><p>Directly in front of the grove, Kaali’s servants fixed their torches in the ground in a rough triangle. Inside the triangle, Kartik could finally see, Kaali placed a copper <em>yantra </em>although the pattern on it was different from anything Kartik had ever seen before. <sub>2</sub></p><p>Kaali spread his arms wide, the muscles of his back rippling, and began to chant in a language nobody else present had ever heard before. It was a strange tongue, at once as guttural as a low growl and as clamorous as numerous swords being drawn in unison.</p><p>There certainly was a cadence and rhythm to the incantation, but Kartik’s ears couldn’t find any relation at all to the meters known to him. The sacred <em>Gayatri</em>, the <em>tristubh</em> or even the <em>anusthubh</em>. <sub>3</sub></p><p>Whatever Power it was that the incantation was invoking, everyone there realised it was working when a sudden wind exploded into being from inside the forest and shattered the silent stillness of the night. Over Kaali’s deep voice that kept chanting in that strange language, the ferocious wind howled as though to drown out the Mage.</p><p>The chant reached a sudden, searing crescendo and the howling of the wind changed its pitch until it didn’t sound like the wind anymore, but like-</p><p>
  <em>No no no</em>
</p><p>Like a <em>person</em> screaming in mortal agony.</p><p>Rather ineffectually, Kartik shut his eyes against the horrific sound as the night was rent by the screams of someone who sounded like they were being flayed alive. He only opened them again when the screams stopped several agonising minutes later.</p><p>Kneeling in front of the <em>yantra</em>, fenced in by the lit torches, was the most beautiful man Kartik had ever seen. Gold-flecked dark eyes glared balefully at all of them.</p><p>Kartik swallowed as he realised the man- the <em>yaksha</em>- was panting with effort. If nothing else, he knows all too well how your heart can refuse to calm down for several minutes after the blows have stopped raining down.</p><p>The unearthly light in the <em>yaksha’</em>s eyes was finally extinguished as it-<em>he- </em>collapsed into a dead faint.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Concluding part of the story. Hold on to your seats, kids! It's going to be a long one!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Whew! Now here's something I thought I'd never do. I've never been confident enough about writing a historical piece- much less an AU about a story that's set in modern times in-canon. Apparently, here we are, though.</p><p>At 3k words, this is probably also the longest chapter I've ever written probably EVER. I do hope you guys enjoy it!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If Kartik had been surprised by how easy it was for him and Ravi to tag along to the actual expedition to capture the <em>Yaksha</em>, he felt uncomfortably manipulated by Fate when Ravi told him he would be on night duty at the dungeons for the foreseeable future guarding the bound spirit.</p><p>“There have been a few incidents of some nobles dying mysteriously in the palace over the last few weeks,” Ravi said, looking as though there was an unpleasant aftertaste in his mouth, “they need all the experienced guards up at those levels.</p><p>“The <em>yaksha</em> isn’t actually any danger now that his power is completely bound up, but they still need <em>someone</em> there keeping an eye on him, and-”</p><p>“All the experienced guards are needed for the more important people,” Kartik finished for his friend.</p><p>There was something odd about nobles dying whilst inside their own homes. If they had been poisoned, it would have to be someone from the <em>inside­</em>- but, these were matters best left to the Nobles and Aristocrats to sort out. What did a lowly guard and a singer have to do with any of it?</p><p>The two were having dinner in their room. Ravi would be leaving for his new assignment shortly after while Kartik technically could just go to sleep.<br/>Except- he’s been seeing the <em>yaksha</em>’s face in his dreams, his awful screams haunting his nightmares. He doesn’t look forward to trying to fall asleep alone without Ravi’s familiar snores in the background.</p><p>Maybe he can-</p><p>“So they’ve put him in one of the older wings of the dungeons, haven’t they? One which doesn’t actually have any other prisoners or guards?”</p><p>Ravi sighed resignedly because he knew exactly where this was going. Not bothering to dignify Kartik with a response, he simply rummaged around through the assorted accoutrements he had managed to accrue from his training and handed Kartik, as before, a helmet and a spear.</p><p>Kartik’s face lit up with unholy glee as he strapped the helmet on his head and then struck a dramatic pose with the spear in his right hand, puffing his chest out proudly. “You know, if it’s this easy to sneak into the Palace as guards, no wonder someone’s been murdering- <em>aah</em>!”</p><p>Ravi had given Kartik’s buttocks a resounding whack with the butt of his spear. Not that he disagreed with his friend per se, only that it made him feel infinitely better somehow.</p><hr/><p>“They left him like <em>that</em>?”</p><p><em>That</em>- referred to being left without a stitch of cloth and shackled to the wall, arms high above one’s head. It turned Kartik’s stomach to see this unutterably beautiful being reduced to this indignity- in some ways, it was worse than being left to die in a corner like an animal. This was like- having one’s pain and humiliation being put on display for someone’s sadistic pleasure.</p><p>“He’s a spirit, I don’t think he feels things the same way we do,” Ravi quietly said, but he faltered at the enraged look on Kartik’s face.</p><p>“Do you have the keys to his cell?”</p><p>“I don’t think-”</p><p>“The <em>keys</em>, Ravi, do you have them?”</p><p>“<em>Fine</em>!”</p><p>Apparently, Ravi didn’t trust Kartik enough to not just make away with the keys as soon as he got them because Ravi made it a point to unlock the cell himself and tie the bunch of iron keys back into his <em>paridhana</em>. He motioned to his friend to go on in himself; friendship had its limits bound by self-preservation.</p><p>Kartik unhooked a torch from the wall and entered the cell.</p><p>Closer to, he could see that the <em>yaksha </em>was clearly in pain. Eyes closed, brows furrowed, there were minute tremors running through the length of his lithe body. His lips were moving sluggishly, although it seemed as though he had no strength left to voice anything.</p><p>He threw Ravi a look of outrage over his shoulder: for a spirit that allegedly didn’t feel things the same way humans did, the <em>yaksha</em> seemed to have a whole lot in common with a human strung up naked in a cold, damp cell.</p><p>Kartik bit his lip. It must be excruciating having one’s arms shackled at that angle, so high up that dozing off might risk popping them right out of their sockets. How was he still conscious after an entire <em>week</em> like this?</p><p>Kartik took a few more step forward, close enough now that he could hear that the <em>yaksha</em> actually <em>was </em>voicing something.</p><p>
  <em>Biters of shoulder or of limb, with needle-stings, most venomous,<br/>Unseen, whatever ye may be, vanish together and be gone.<br/>The three-times-seven bright sparks of fire have swallowed up the poison's strength<br/>The maiden Sisters Seven have carried thy venom far away, as girls bear water in their jars </em>
  <sub>1</sub>
</p><p>The shape of the words sounded rather strange to him, even though the cadence of the verse itself slotted into the familiar rhythm of the <em>Gayatri</em> meter. If it was a spell the <em>yaksha</em> was trying to weave, it clearly wasn’t working.</p><p>Looking back up to the <em>yaksha</em>, Kartik took a started step back when he saw his eyes were open and were staring at him unblinkingly. The dark eyes were no longer laced with golden light; now they just looked human- breathtakingly beautiful, but human, nonetheless.</p><p>“I’m- I’m Kartik,” he said over the pounding of his heart, “what’s your name?”</p><p>Clearly, it was the wrong question to ask. A look of utter contempt stole over the <em>yaksha’</em>s face, temporarily washing away the pain. “I am the grove from which you took me, human. I am the breeze that whistles through those leaves, the infinite shadows that play there, the innumerable ways the light dances on the trees as the Chariot moves through the sky- you cannot name each shadow that flits across a leaf. To name me is to bind me, I <em>have</em> no name”</p><p>Another tremor, and he closed his eyes as if in sudden pain. “And yet, bound me you surely have- what spell is this that I can neither feel nor affect? Even the Twins cannot aid me” <sub>2</sub></p><p>“I don’t – they said it was magic from very far away, does it hurt a lot?”</p><p>The <em>yaksha’</em>s eyes were still closed as his lips curled into a mocking smile. “My brave boy-warrior! Has the love of your six mothers overflowed the banks so much that you have come here to dispense the milk?” <sub>3</sub></p><p>He refused to speak after that.</p><hr/><p>A few day’s later when Kaali summoned Kartik to his chambers, the singer felt neither surprised nor resentful at the development- he did have a passing thought if the <em>yaksha</em> was somehow subtly affecting events though. <br/>His dreams and waking thoughts had been haunted by that beautiful face, after all; a face that preferred to mock rather than admit to pain and defeat.</p><p>Inside the Mage’s chambers, Kaali sat resplendent near stacks of dry palm leaves. The early morning sun flooded the whole room with golden light.</p><p>He looked up as Kartik entered. “You have the whole Palace abuzz with talk of your voice. I have a long, arduous day ahead of me and I find it helps if I have music present- will you sing for me?”</p><p>The older man smiled; it did not reach his eyes.</p><p>Kartik dipped his head in acquiescence. “It would be my pleasure”</p><p>Something darker uncurled in Kaali’s eyes at the last word, although Kartik didn’t see it. Wisps of a wild idea were unfurling in his mind as he began to sing.</p><p>It was almost late afternoon by the time Kaali finished whatever it was that he was putting down in writing. Kartik’s voice had begun to grow a little hoarse.</p><p>“Kartik, stop, please! You’ll hurt your voice! I had not realised that it had been so long, you should have told me!”</p><p>“Music is what lessens pain, it can never cause hurt,” Kartik replied, keeping both his voice as well as his eyes low, trying to glance at Kaali through his eyelashes.</p><p>Yes, he could see the lust take shape in the Mage’s face, contorting his features in a way that made the sweat sprout in Kartik’s armpits and trickle down his back.</p><p>“A singer-philosopher! Tell me, what other interests do you have? Statecraft, maybe?”</p><p>“I’m a lowly Blacksmith’s son from a hamlet so small we didn’t even have our own well, what do I have to do with such big things! But-”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>Was he <em>actually</em> going to do this?</p><p>
  <em>My brave boy-warrior!</em>
</p><p>“I- I’ve always wanted to travel to far, distant places where the stars are strange, and the people speak in impossible tongues! They say that- that you’ve gone to the ends of the world and maybe even beyond. I want- I mean, would it please you to tell me about your travels? You must know so many stories!”</p><p>As Kaali chuckled and rose from his seat, his <em>uttariya</em> slipped off his shoulder and slithered to the floor. It was the colour of old blood.</p><hr/><p>The <em>yaksha</em> hissed in pain as Kartik undid one of the cuffs and then gently lowered the arm, making sure to keep his own hand as a cushion behind the shorter man’s shoulder.</p><p>Since it didn’t look like the <em>yaksha</em> was currently capable of supporting his own body, Kartik was braced against him like a pillar, taking on most of his weight.</p><p>The forehead buried at the crook of his neck felt clammy, the breaths fanning over his chest came fast and shallow.</p><p>When Kartik freed the <em>yaksha</em>’s other arm and eased it down, he wasn’t able to supress the cry of pain.</p><p>Slowly, gently, Kartik lowered them both to the cold stone of the floor, wrapping both arms around the <em>yaksha</em>. “You have to focus on the breaths, not on the pain. Try to match your breaths to mine, go on- one, two, three…”</p><p>Kartik didn’t speak again until the <em>yaksha</em>’s breaths seemed to even out a bit more. “I don’t know if will help, but I have some water from that stream in the grove. Do you want to-”</p><p>“If you mean to mock me,” the <em>yaksha </em>murmured against Kartik’s neck, making him shiver and break out into goose-pimples, “I must admit that you are at least exceedingly sweet about it. Where is it?”</p><p>Kartik’s hand closed around the sheepskin pouch beside him, then brought it to the <em>yaksha</em>’s lips, tilting it. The spirit’s eyes fluttered closed again as the frigid water entered his mouth, his throat working to take in the liquid in greedy gulps. He kept drinking until the entire pouch was drained of water.</p><p>Thirst slaked for now, it seemed the <em>yaksha</em> was quite content to burrow back into Kartik’s chest. He seemed to be an imminently practical creature, this nature spirit.</p><p>“I have something else for you as well,” Kartik tentatively ventured a few minutes later, “I have stories for you, from the lands where this magic came from. Do you want to hear them?”</p><p><em>That</em> got his attention, for sure. He pulled back from Kartik’s embrace and fixed him with an eerie, unblinking stare. Then, all at once, his face broke out into a smile- mischief this time, instead of condescension.</p><p>“Do you mean to crush me under the weight of your kindness? Careful that you don’t get impaled by your own weapon!”</p><p>Which, Kartik supposed, was about as much of a <em>do go on</em> he was ever going to get from him. He waited until the <em>yaksha</em> tucked his face back into his embrace before starting.</p><p>
  <em>The great Goddess Aruru designed his body. Two thirds god she made him, and one third man. The Sun gave him beauty. The Storm gave him courage. Long was his journey, and difficult his labours…</em>
  <sub>4</sub>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em>… The judges of the underworld surrounded her. They passed judgment against her. She was turned into a corpse; a piece of rotting meat, and was hung from a hook on the wall </em>
  <sub>5</sub>
</p><p>It had been three months since the <em>yaksha</em>’s capture. Every night, Kartik would venture into the darkness of the dungeons with new stories to narrate- with each story, the <em>yaksha</em> seemed to grow a little less weak, a little less pained.</p><p>Every night, Ravi would meet Kartik at the entrance to the specific wing of the dungeons where the <em>yaksha</em> was to pass him the keys to the cell and the shackles. He never stopped Kartik, but as the nights stretched into weeks and then months he began to grow worried about the shadows that had begun to accumulate in Kartik’s once-clear eyes, the weight his once-straight shoulders had begun to slump under.</p><p>Kartik woke up with a start from his doze at a soft, almost tentative touch. He was in the cell.</p><p>The <em>yaksha</em> was running a careful thumb over his face, right under his eyes. “You’re tired. You haven’t been getting enough rest”</p><p>Kartik scoffed. “Yes, I’m sure being hung by your wrists all day must be very restful. So, by all means, let us worry about <em>me</em> not getting enough rest”</p><p>“This body feels all the hurts and weariness of flesh, Kartik, but I am not one of the Incarnate- I may be bound but my essential nature remains unchanged. Whereas you-”</p><p>“Is it working, then? The stories? The magic that bound you shouldn’t be as unfamiliar to you now, surely?”</p><p>The <em>yaksha</em> closed his eyes, as though considering the question. “I can feel the shape of the bindings now that hold me to this form, so yes. Even so, I can’t grasp them. They slip through my fingers like sand. I need- something else”</p><hr/><p>Kaali threw back his head with a wordless groan and bucked his hips, making Kartik almost choke.</p><p>“Ye- yes. They have a word for- <em>ah</em>- trusting in their Gods- they u-use it at the- the end of- their hymns. It’s A-<em>ah ah</em>-”</p><hr/><p>“Start for home right now, Ravi. If you hurry, you’ll reach before dawn tomorrow,” Kartik said.</p><p>Ravi looked so stricken and bereft that Kartik couldn’t help but to pull him into a tight hug, choosing to ignore the tears that were wetting the bare skin of his shoulder.</p><p>His friend’s grip tightened when he whispered, “Give your parents all my love and regard. They better not forget me!”</p><p>Gently, he disentangled himself from Ravi’s vice like grip and pressed an affectionate kiss to his forehead. “Go!”</p><hr/><p>“I have one last gift to give you,” Kartik said as he unlocked the shackles that bound the <em>yaksha’</em>s arms that night, “would you accept it?”</p><p>The bound spirit looked up at him with a smile that flickered between fond and melancholic. “Better not to send at all than to pledge overmuch; a gift demands a gift” <sub>6</sub></p><p>Kartik muttered something rather rude about cryptic spirits before focussing again on the shorter man. “I asked you your name once and you told me that to name you was to bind you. Would you accept a name <em>I </em>gave you?”</p><p>The <em>yaksha</em> wasn’t smiling anymore. “Names have power, Kartik: more over we who are Disincarnate than over your kind”</p><p>Kartik opened his mouth to speak but the <em>yaksha</em> spoke over him.</p><p>“You came to me unbidden when I was in pain, took thought to offer me comfort night after night when you had no reason to. These gifts that you have given me- I know they cost you.</p><p>“I- I accept this gift from you. I will gladly bear the name you choose to give me”</p><p>In response, Kartik captured the <em>yaksha</em>’s lips in a searing kiss, tongue nudging their way in. When the lips finally parted, Kartik slipped the name in- thought and breath as one.</p><p>
  <em>Aman</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Aleph. Mem. Nun. </em>
  <sub>7</sub>
</p><p>Light flared in the <em>yaksha</em>’s- <em>Aman’s</em>- mind along the intricate geometry of the magic binding him to this form as the spell finally opened up its secrets to him, named as he now was in its own tongue.</p><p><em>That</em> was the knot which held him in this form against his will. Laughing, it was so <em>easy</em>, he reached out with his mind and-</p><p>Kartik staggered back in shock as Aman straightened his shoulders and really, for the first time since they knew each other, <em>smiled</em>. Aman’s eyes were laced with the golden light of Divine energy.</p><p>“You’re- you’re still here”</p><p>“Did you think this body would dissolve into dust and I would flee to the safety of my grove leaving you alone?”</p><p>Kartik could only nod mutely.</p><p>Aman kissed Kartik’s knuckles. “Not even by mistake, Kartik! Not even by mistake!”</p><hr/><p>The conch shells raising the alarm stared blowing just as they crossed the city limits.</p><p>“Not- much to- go on now!” Kartik panted as he ran hand-in-hand with Aman.</p><p>Once they got to the <em>Guras</em> grove, Aman had assured him, no power on the three worlds would be able to touch them. The place had been his stronghold for untold aeons, it would shelter them now.</p><p>Just a few more strides now, they could see the white flowers gleaming by the light of the kindling dawn.</p><p>Kartik opened his mouth to laugh as he crossed into the clearing, just as Aman had a flash of that thrice-damned Mage incant a spell and hurl a spear in his mind’s eye.</p><p>“NO!”</p><p>There was a crack of displaced air and with the sickening sound of ripping tissue, a spear ripped through Kartik’s heart and torso. Hot, bright blood splashed on the pristine white flowers.</p><p>Kartik died before his body even hit the ground.</p><p>
  <em>Careful that you don’t get impaled by your own weapon! </em>
  <sub>8</sub>
</p><p>On instinct, Aman lashed out, spitting harsh, unforgiving spells of vengeance and bloodshed meaning to smite the entire kingdom behind him. He felt the fearful energies gather around him, pulsating to the beat of a heart that would never beat again.</p><p>He would destroy them all- <em>annihilate </em>them so painfully and so thoroughly that no people would dare step foot here for <em>centuries</em>. He would-</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Peace, little one</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>The Presence of the Lord was like a sudden wave of tranquility washing over Aman’s entire being- it was the certainty that everything was and would be taken care of.</p><p>But <em>Kartik­-</em></p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Look around you</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>Through eyes half-blinded by tears, he looked in wonder at all the flowers in his grove blossom into bright scarlet- one after the other, the heady colour bloomed from the center outward in each flower.</p><p>
  <em>Aman Aman Aman</em>
</p><p>There was another <em>yaksha</em> in the grove with him, Aman realised, one which was so heartbreakingly familiar..</p><p>A mischievous breeze played with his hair, nuzzled at his neck before whirling around the grove joyously.</p><p>
  <em>Aman Aman Aman</em>
</p><p>There was a shadow that kept flirting with his glance, flitting away before he could look at it properly.</p><p>
  <em>Kartik?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Did you think I would dissolve this body and leave you?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Not even by mistake, Aman, not even by mistake.</em>
</p><p>Aman took one last moment to lay the strongest enchantments of confusion and concealment that he knew around the Grove before proceeding to dissolve the substance of his current form back into the substance of the Uncreate.</p><p>Enchantments, like the world around them, were wont to change and evolve. Some day, the spells would finally wear off and people would be able to find this place again.</p><p>But that was all right- they would still be here, as they were here now. They were the shadows that danced with each other inside the grove, the shafts of dappled sunlight that flitted from leaf to leaf. They were the soft, sweet breezes which whispered to each other from hidden corners.</p><p>They were the <em>yakshas </em>of the <em>guras </em>grove.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>1 Rig Veda Mandala 1 Hymn 191 (?) It's cryptic little piece which, as far as I can make out, seems to be a charm against venom which works by invoking the Sun and various other assorted Divinities. The reference to the Seven Sisters would probably be about the Sapta-Sindhu, so the sacred waters washing the poison away.</p><p>2 Aman is referring to the Ashvin twins, the Vedic Gods invoked during times of extreme duress. They gallop to the aid of the beleaguered devotee and snatch them away from the jaws of disaster right in the nick of time.</p><p>3 Aman is (very cattily) referring to the myth where the Krittika's (the six celestial women which correspond to the Pleiades constellation) see the new born Kartik in the Ganga and are absolutely enchanted with the infant. Kartik either grows five more heads or splits himself into six babies (depends on which version you read) so that all the Krittika's would get the chance to nurse him.</p><p>4 Kartik is narrating the beginning of the Epic of Gilgamesh, an ancient Mesopotamian epic</p><p>5 This is from Innana's descent to the underworld- another episode of Mesopotamian myth</p><p>6 This is a bit from the Havamal, a piece of Viking poetry that outlines proper etiquette for Norse society before veering into obscure bits of viking magic. This specific line, I read to mean, that it's better not to accept a gift if you don't know what you'll have to give as a return favour. Per Norse ethics, a gift HAD to be repaid by another gift- because otherwise you were no better than a thief.</p><p>7 All right, this really is the kernel of what got me into writing this story. I'm an enormous nerd for people's names and I love looking up what they mean. As it turns out, "Aman" is manifestly not an Indic name and comes to us from the Arabic. Here, I used the Hebrew - but the Arabic name seems to follow from the same root: AMN (as a lot of afro-asiatic languages apparently love to skip the vowels while writing). It means variously, something being fixed, supported, steadfast, etc. The Abrahamic exclamation, "Amen!" at the end of prayers comes from the same root. The hebrew would actually write it exactly like that- AMN or Aleph, Mem, Nun</p><p>8 Poor Aman. In the myths, Kartik's weapon of choice is a Vel- or a spear-like weapon. Of course Aman didn't somehow curse him into dying like that, but...well, he wasn't really thinking straight at the moment.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>1 It's said that the practices and incantations of Tantra come to us from a conversation between Shiva and Parvati which a fish overheard. Fables aside, two of the oldest schools of Tantra in India; the older Kashimiri school (Pitri Tantra) and the relatively younger Eastern Indian school (Matri Tantra) respectively anchor the whole system to Shiva and Shakti respectively. All of the incantations ideally circle back to one form or the other of these two deities.</p><p>2 A yantra is essentially a geometric pattern that singularly expresses the specific Deity you're invoking. In a fundamental way, the yantra (the geometric representation) and the mantra (the verbal/auditory representation) ARE the Deity in question and not just their representations. The God isn't just IN them, the God IS them. That's the Indic perspective. I kinda-sorta-only-true-if-you-squint-hard-enough based this "foreign" ritual on Semitic/Afro-Asiatic magic. King Solomon wassaid to have bound a number of spirits to his will by using specific "seals" which are essentially geometric patterns inscribed on metal. Books like the Lesser Key of Solomon detail the seals he used and the names of those spirits. There's a specific reason why I used Afro-Asiatic magic here that will hopefully become clear when I post the second part of this piece.</p><p>3 Gayatri, of course, is the meter best known through the Gayatri mantra although the Rig Veda is replete with the meter. Anustubh is the meter probably most familiar to us because most of the Classical Sanskrit works such as the Mahabharata are composed entirely in this meter.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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